Kageyama had never really thought of you that way. Not as anything more than a friend, at least.

Not at first.

You were just, well, there. Steady. You understood when to leave him alone, when to nudge him forward, and when to stand by without asking anything. It was easy to be around you. Comfortable. Maybe more comfortable than he'd like to admit.

And somewhere along the way, between the walks after he came out of the gym, the teasing, the way you always stayed behind when you needed to tie your shoes, something shifted. Slowly. Silently. He didn’t notice the change when it started. But now, looking back, maybe it had always been creeping in. He just hadn’t let himself see it.

After practice, he sat aside to catch his breath and glanced around until his eyes landed on you.

Kageyama wasn’t listening, which was strange. He always listened, especially when it came to volleyball. Blocking out the noise was second nature by now. But right now, that part of him was gone. Why?

Because you were laughing.

Not with him. Across the gym, leaning casually against the wall beside some guy from another class, one of those effortlessly loud ones who never seemed to take anything seriously. You laughed at something he said, eyes squinting just a little, hand brushing his arm like it didn’t mean anything.

But it meant something to Kageyama.

His grip tightened around his water bottle. His shoulders tensed, jaw set. Something low and cold settled in his chest, and he couldn’t name it.

It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But that laugh used to be part of his world. Tied to shared glances across the hall to half-smiles after a hard test, it belonged to post-match celebrations and late-night walks home. Now it was somewhere else, and he felt the absence like a bruise.

He stared too long, and you noticed.

Your eyes flicked over to him, curious, still holding the warmth from whatever that guy just said. And then, just like that, the laughter faded. Your expression shifted, just barely, like you saw something in his face and didn’t know what to do with it.

Kageyama looked away first. Fast. Too fast.

And that’s when it hit him. Oh.

Oh no.

It wasn’t irritation. Or distraction. It wasn’t some temporary brain static from a bad night of sleep. His stomach dropped. Cold and sharp. And there was no spike, no serve, no hard sprints across the gym that could shake it off. It sat there, pulsing just under his ribs.

You weren’t his. You never were.

But now, suddenly, that felt like a problem.

And the worst part was… he knew exactly when it changed. It was how you looked at him just now. Like he wasn’t just the King of the Court or some volleyball-obsessed freak. You saw all the parts he kept quiet. You saw Tobio.

That’s when it clicked.

He was in love with you.

Kageyama just hadn’t realized it until he saw you smile at someone else the way he wanted you to smile at him. Without thinking, without planning, he crosses the gym toward you. Not fast. Hell, not even with a purpose. All he knew was that he needed to be near you in some capacity. Kageyama stops a few feet away, awkward, hands half-curled at his sides, eyes flicking up and away and back again.

"Hey," he says, a little hoarse. Then, quieter, "Can we talk?"